𝟭- The Jane Hopper Defense Squad

849 33 9
                                    



 ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗

___________________________________

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

___________________________________


BOOM BOOM BOOM 

"C'mon kid, it's time to get up!" Beatrice Sommers bellowed from her niece's doorway, accompanying her earth-shattering knocks on the pastel blue wall.

"Your knocks sound like 50 cars ramming into each other at the same time," Roxanne grumbled from beneath her duvet.

The fluffy white sheet was soon ripped away from the young girl, forcing her eyes to adjust to the sunlight shining through her large window. "I don't care, you gotta get to school kiddo," Beatrice softly spoke above her.

Roxanne sighed as she moved into a sitting position on her bed. "It's your fault for making this bed so damn comfortable," she spoke before reluctantly standing to her feet.

"I'm sorry for wanting to spoil my only niece with the little money I worked so hard for. They should just throw me in jail," the oldest living Sommers woman jested.

Her niece narrowed her eyes at her before leaning in to her chest, immediately snuggling into her arms for a hug. "You know I love you and your 'little' money, Aunt Bea," the young blonde mumbled into her aunt's neck.

"Hmm, well flattery isn't gonna get you out of school, Anne," Beatrice immediately picked up on Roxanne's ruse.

"Damnit," the high school senior muttered in defeat before pulling herself out of her aunt's arms.

"Hurry up and shower, I'm making breakfast downstairs and I have something for you," Beatrice called out as she pushed her half-asleep niece into the bathroom connected to her room.

The young blonde's grumbles could be heard as Beatrice exited the room and journeyed back into her kitchen.

~'~'~'

"You should ditch your whole lawyer thing and become a cook."

Beatrice raised a brow from behind her black glasses towards her niece who was currently devouring a stack of pancakes with a concerning lack of etiquette. "You can slow down, Anne, the food's all yours," she chuckled, "and this 'lawyer thing' I do is the whole reason we're not on the streets."

"Well, thanks for the breakfast, Aunt Bea, I gotta go," Roxanne spoke as she swallowed the last mouthful of orange juice. The young girl slid on her leather jacket then grabbed her messenger bag and swung it across her shoulder before turning in the direction of the front door.

𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗙𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗞 - Eddie MunsonWhere stories live. Discover now